Absolutely intolerant story.
A few weeks ago, or maybe more, a small incident happened in Israel. One Afro-Jew had a roof, according to his relatives. He took a small kitchen knife, twenty-five centimeters long, and waving with it, began to run around the area. Someone from relatives or neighbors called the police, came in and demanded to stop violating the shame. In response, the Afro-Jew, waving a knife and shouting something in an incomprehensible language, struck the police officer. The police officer did not courageously enter the wrestling, but simply shot this crendle.
What started here. Police are accused of racism. How is it, well you think with a knife ran, well you think that he was mocking, he has not killed anyone so far, and the policeman had to take off the knife or let him kick, and he immediately shoot. It’s all because he’s a white policeman racist. And with racism we will fight, for this reason we announced a march of protest. A crowd of African Jews gathered, blocked the streets and went to protest.
They murmured, demanded that all racist police officers be shot and dispersed peacefully to engage in their peaceful affairs: beating cars, burning cafes, burning garbage tanks. The police arrested a dozen people, especially borzhi, but the court released them, burning garbage tanks, beating cars, and a cafeteria pogrom is not a crime. Better let go, or they will be offended and again go to protest against racism.
I read about it and remembered one story that took place in 1994.
I worked with one interesting person, let’s call him Vitalik. A healthy Russian man (Klichko and Valuev in his background look like younger brothers), in the past a sailor who worked for a decade and a half on a fishing trawler in the northern seas. He met on a holiday in Sochi with a beautiful, slim, black-eyed girl, fell in love as a boy, married, had children and found himself in Israel. As all emigrants (repatriants) removed an apartment, arranged for work.
That morning our shifts coincided, each did his job, occasionally interrupting words. Vitalik was clearly not in himself, it can be seen that he is a little on the squad, he thinks something, he is worried about something, obviously something happened. We went on a break together. We sit in the cafe and eat.
Vitaly, what has happened? I see something happened. Could I help?
I don’t even know how to tell. He did everything right, justly, and the hell knows it.
Tell me, and then we will think.
Further from his words.
I go home yesterday from the second shift, you know, I fuck know where I rent an apartment, I come to our village and I hear a wild whisper and cries for help. I stop, I get out of the car, I hear screams somewhere on the side, I run to the noise, I see some Negritos girl to the ground pressed, a T-shirt and shorts on it in pieces, and he is already shaking her cowards. I grabbed him for the head and attached him to a tree. I raise a girl - quite sleepy, ages 12-14. As she found out there to understand did not start, took off the jacket, put on it, led into the car. The Negro is here. He would go home under the noise to take off, so no exit began, I will put you down, you are already a corpse, some more purge endured, I didn't really understand. I turn around, I go to him, so this idiot got a foam knife and started waving them. I had to give a couple of opleighs, not to beat him really, shit, a minor of 16-18. He took off his knife, put it under his ass and told him to go home. He won’t calm down, he’s so shy. He took the stick and again on me. He removed the drone, pulled in another couple of opleys. Listen, I say, Maximka, what do you want from me, that I will put your bad head in your ass, go home. No, it is not reassuring. I’ll write the car number, I’ll find you tomorrow, we’ll kill you, and so on. My patience has run out. I put the girl in the car, I catch this maximum, although to catch him, he is all the time in the car. I pulled him out of my pants and tied him to the tree with a belt. In the trunk I had a rope, cut off a few pieces, attached knots, pulled a cowboy out of it and let him take care of his ass with linen. At first he threatened, mocked, whispered, whispered, waved in a bad voice, then cried and drowned. I pulled him off, said goodbye to Penelope and left. The girl brought to the apartment, and there the parents are already on the ears, told how it was, smoked with her father. I saw them go to the hospital to examine and write a statement to the police. I finally went home. I go and think I have two daughters almost that age. You see what a fucking thing happened. I said my own, maybe we go?
This is such a story. Vitalika was not sought by the police, as did not the rapist. And what to look for him, well you think, wanted to fuck a young girl, it was his own fault. It does not pose a public danger.
The morality? There will be no morality. Take care of your children.
I had a friend in college. We call him Vasa. Our friendship extended from school and continued in the universe until one moment – the moment I bought a car. Vasya, as a true friend, took the passenger seat and started driving with me to the universe in the morning, so as not to be pushed in public transport. In principle, I am not in a break, even on the way.
The problem with Vasey was quickly drawn. A stone of prejudice was my way of driving. Vasya considered it a personal duty to criticize every turn of the steering wheel and, whether or not, to go with his advice. Restore, brake, accelerate, look to the left, right, up, down... I was angry with this noble But - still a friend, and a friend who helps with the course.
But this story would not have existed if it had not been a single case.
I was damned to take you to my hometown. On the road ice, slightly dried with snow. I walk carefully, relentlessly, stifling my friend’s talk with music. The car turned from above. Normally such a hill with rebarbers on the sides, unspoiled with sand. I feel the car slowly pulling away and shaking.
Slow down the speed, Vasya asks.
It cannot. The front drive. It will be stronger, I explained.
I say slow down.
– Vasya, I have extreme driving lessons behind my shoulders. Stick and do not interfere.
“Yes, they are,” said the comrade with authority, “and... it’s enough to drive. Not just sufficing, but dragging, apparently trying to understand me. Probably. I still don’t know the real reason for this stupid act.
What happened next is not hard to guess. The car with a light soul went to dance. Left-right, left-right - I try to get out of the slope and not smash into the detachment. Silently and concentratedly, I drive, gas and pray that there will be no encounter, as it throws us all the way. The meeting did not wait long. Man jumped out like the devil from the tobacco box.
All of it, I think. Me and your brains are broken. But still did not pass the extreme driving lessons for nothing. I haven’t had time to see the whole life before my eyes, how I feel! The car ran out, took its lane and just on time. Man walked by, murmuring far away. I was glad I didn’t strike anyone today. It shakes me. Adrenaline and fear are a wild mix. I brake at the side, I get out of the car. Vasek, who has been silent all this time, with shaken eyes comes out of the track and, cried out, gives out:
I told you brakes, idiot.
Here it caught me. I turn around, open the luggage, throw away his things and calmly say:
And then, Vassula, go on foot.
and I leave.
And thanks to Vasa, everyone soon learned that I’m riding like a cupcake, and that a car for me is like a grenade for a monkey.
But thank you for that too. None of my friends had ever been in the car. But this did not upset me, because suddenly there are inadequates among them.